


The Wolf Who Walked Alone

by Lethallan97



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Magic, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Injury, Magic, Magic-Users, Major Character Injury, Minor Lavellan/Solas, Original Character(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Pregnancy, Secret Children, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Shapeshifting, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9703172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethallan97/pseuds/Lethallan97
Summary: After the defeat of Corypheus, the inquisition was forced to disband and become little more than a band of mercenaries with morals. The inquistor was left with a broken heart... and a child in her belly.Now, Ghila Lavellan is a ordinary young woman. As ordinary as the daughter of the former inquisitor, the secret daughter of the Dread Wolf and a extremely powerful mage and shapeshifter can be anyway.After skyhold is attacked, Ghila escapes heavily wounded in the guise of a wolf only to be rescued by strangers... and wakes up injured in a camp filled with the agents of Fen'harel... and in the company of the Dread Wolf himself. Who doesn't know who she is, or that she even exists. Brilliant.(In progress - I'm sorry I know I'm terrible at updating! My Fenris/Solas fic just has its hooks in me!)





	1. Da'len

**Author's Note:**

> I am an inexperienced writer, so any constructive feedback in comments is appreciated! 
> 
> This is also un-betaed. I am looking for a beta to test read and check grammar, so if anyone is interested in doing this for this fic or others i do in the future please comment or email me at lethallan97@gmail.com.
> 
> Thanks, I hope you like it! I am very rusty at writing so i hope it isn't too bad.

“Mamae! Mamae!” the little girl ran towards her mother, little feet slapping loudly on the stone floors of the Rotunda and her white nightgown flapping wildly as her pale little hands grasped tightly around whatever had grasped her interest this time.

Her mother smiled, watching as her daughter’s red mess of hair bobbed wildly as she ran closer. “What do you have now?” she laughed, as the girl thrust out a chubby palm towards her to reveal her treasure. 

What looked like a small pebble sat in the middle of her palm, with intricate floral carvings dancing in a beautiful pattern across the stone surface. She reached out and plucked the stone from her daughter’s palm before pulling her up onto her lap. 

“Ghilani Lavellan, you have been going through my things again haven’t you?” She couldn’t help but laugh, at the sheepish look her daughter gave her.  
“Look here…” she took her small hand and helped her trace her small finger over the intricate lines, “I made this for you, just before you were born. In this very room.” She had come here to his desk, in his rotunda, in a moment of grief for her lost love not even a month before Ghila was born. 

“If you keep this with you, it will help to keep you safe wherever you go. Look here, this part… that’s your name.” She looked over to see her mouth hanging open in wonder and her eyes wide, as she started to point out the small rune marks that worked to enchant the stone and started to question the ones she didn’t recognise. Even at the age of four she was enthralled by anything to do with magic, and she was already stronger than a child three times her age.

Her heart clenched. She looked so much like him, especially in these moments. The only thing she seemed to take from her was her size. She was so small, even for an elf, she was so fragile and that scared her. She was her heart now. She had guided her back to happiness, after he had left her with a broken heart and a child in her belly, to lose her would break her beyond repair. It made her heart hurt that he would never know her like this. That he would never even know she existed.

“I want to show Uncle Dorian! He taught me this trick the other day that made fire dance!” She started to squirm and she pushed a lock of her daughter's hair behind one pointed ear and stood, hoisting her up into her arms. 

“Alright, let’s go pester Dorian!” she smirked as she heard a fond, over exaggerated snort of disapproval from the library above.

It had taken a long time, but finally she was content, with her friends and her little girl with fire in her hair and in her heart.


	2. The Forest Barrier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I would write a lot before posting more, so I could do regular updates, but I wanted to put something more than the little drabble of the first chapter out there so here is the next part! 
> 
> Still looking for a beta, if interested please comment! 
> 
> NOTE: Please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes, it is written (like most fanfictions) at 3am, is unbetaed and has only been briefly proofread. 
> 
> Hope you like it anyway!

This was her favourite time of day. Dawn, when she could soar down the mountain tops on crow’s wings and run through the forests below feeling the crunch of frost hardened grass beneath her feet. Sometimes she could even spend many days and nights like this. It was easier sometimes when people thought her just a beast and didn’t demand anything of her, but those days were few and far between. It made her mamae worry to have her gone for long. 

She wasn’t a little girl any more though, she was nearly twenty, and more powerful now than any of the mages in sky hold. Mother always scolded her though, saying Uncle Dorian made her magic ‘all flash and no fire’, but she could still take care of herself better than her mother thought.

She huffed, steam billowing quickly the mouth that wasn’t truly her own as she scraped a hoof into the ground in frustration. It was almost time to return, but maybe another hour wouldn’t hurt. Nobody hunted in this area anyway other than the occasional dalish that ventured this close to skyhold, but no dalish would hunt the halla.

She trotted forward, nibbling at the small flowers that broke through the light cover of snow, snorting and pulling as a twig snagged the runestone hanging from a long cord around her neck. A hare shot out of a nearby bush with a fox hot on its tail, and she let out a bray of excitement. Even in the guise of prey, she loved the chase.

Her muscles bunched, before she shot after her quarry, her hooves digging hard into the ground and propelling her forward in a graceful spring. The first time she tried the halla form though, she had forgotten to account for the horns... Morrigan had been teaching her, and she had found her hopelessly tangled in the branched of a tree sometime later.  
Her heart fluttered wildly, air burning in lungs, lost to the thrill of the chase, until a ripple ran across her form. A tell-tale tingling sensation, like a thousand bugs crawled across her skin, and then it was gone. 

She slowed, heart still thundering as she listened and looked around her for any signs of danger. She heard nothing but the howl of the wind through the trees, and the sound of birdsong.

She turned, her head low and ears flat as she stepped back the way she came, and the sensation ran over her body once again. She could sense a barrier here, one that other mages not so attuned as her might have missed, but she was adept at sensing these things. She had found many like it in skyhold growing up, barriers hiding rooms that once housed those who came before them. One of her favourite things to do as a teenager was try to find and unlock them, failing more often than not. They never held very much, usually just old bedrooms and bath houses, though a few had revealed some invaluable magical texts. This one felt the same, but stronger. The others she had found had weakened over time, their connection slowly fading after their casters deaths. She closed her eyes and made her mind tranquil of other thoughts. She reached out, tendrils of magic probing at the barrier tentatively for weaknesses. It was strong and well maintained, it would take time to unravel. Time she did not have, she realised.

The sun had risen to past its highest peak, she had been studying the barrier in her meditative state for many hours. She had definitely missed her archery lessons… her mother was going to be so mad.

She turned, letting her mind clear of the barriers magics, and shifted. Her skin tingling with a slightly uncomfortable pressure as her form shifted before she raised her wings and flew. 

She was definitely going to be yelled at… 

 

* * * *

 

She rolled her eyes, hands clasped tightly behind her back as she waited for her mother to finish berating her. The ex-inquisitors auburn hair, normally short and well kept, was bed ragged and unkempt. She must have slept in today. The removal of the anchor had saved her life, but it had taken a lot out of her, and time alongside years of fighting afterwards were taking its toll. She was prone to illness, and rarely saw battle anymore. 

“Ghila, you had me worried sick! You know you’re never supposed to go far out of Skyhold, what if something had happened to you and we didn’t know where you were? You could have been bleeding out in the snow or—“ Ghila cut her off, gently clasping her mother’s cold hand in hers. 

“Ma, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stay out so long it’s just… I found this thing….” She paused. If she told her mother about the barrier she had found, she would have Dorian or someone else go and investigate it. As much as she loved him, he was terrible at leaving a scene unspoiled. If she wanted to see whatever was behind it, to really see it as a untouched picture of the past, she needed to do it herself. “I found this really rare herb, I had read about it in the library and I thought if one was out there then there might be more… I just… lost track of time!”. She smiled and her mother sighed dramatically. 

“Fine. Ok. Just don’t do it again, for me. I wouldn’t take away your… excursions, I know you love them, but please just… stay close.” She nodded enthusiastically and kissed her cheek. 

“I promise, Ma. I better go anyway, there’s a book on the detriment of lyrium to lightening control in the library with my name it!”. Ghila turned, walking through her room in the Rotunda and up the stairs in the direction of the library. She hadn’t lied, there was a book she wanted to have a look at, but it wasn’t about lightening. She had a barrier to research. 

 

* * * *

 

Ghila sighed, shifting uncomfortably as she sat cross legged on the snow. The air was frigid without fur to keep her warm, but she required her hands right now. Her palms were freezing, bright red in colour and stinging as tiny invisible needles stabbed into pale flesh. A light blue emanated from the centre of her palms, which were pressed firmly to the snow covered earth. Glyphs carved into the snow around her matched that on the pages of an open book beside her and she pushed with magic forward towards the barrier, weaving between the hidden nooks and crannies of the puzzle in front of her. She was so close, she had been here for hours, but she could feel it. The pressure getting greater as the barrier pushed back in a flimsy attempt to protect itself. Then she found it, and with a pop the pressure vanished and the magic unwound. 

She opened her eyes, a laugh of victory slipping past her lips, before the confusion set in. Nothing had changed. The forest was the same. It was still the frigid beautiful wasteland and unfortunately, the tingling sensation remained. She groaned, and fell back defeated with a crunch into the deep snow. One down… but it seemed two more to go. 

How had she not felt it before? This was the most complex barrier she had even come across before. The glyphs in her research helped to reduce the natural resistance the barrier put up to protect itself, but it was like… three big loops of magic, tangled together and infuriatingly difficult to unravel. She had managed to pop one lock free, but the other two still remained a jumbled mess.

“This better be worth it…” She grumbled, hauling herself to her feet and summoning a light flame to warm her hands. She hissed, pain slicing through her palms, but knew it was this or they would be even more raw later. She lifted the book from the ground, brushing off the clinging snow, and wrapped it tightly in the cloth that had lay beside it, before tucking it tightly into her pack and slinging it round her. 

She shifted, skin tingling, thick warm fur sprouting as sharp teeth grew and pushed through her gums. She launched herself forward towards the desolate towers of home, howling as her aching muscles stretched gloriously. 

The sky was a glorious red and pink by the time she returned, the night creatures beginning to stir from their sleep and bodies moved to retire for the evening. 

The inquisition may have been disbanded years ago, but they weren’t exactly a small company. Skyhold was still relatively well populated, they were nowhere near the size they used to be, but many stayed to continue the ‘good fight’. 

Dorian stuck around to help raise her as her godfather, and of course that meant Bull stayed. Sera stayed too, not because she was big friends with her mother but because she knew Ma would keep ‘doin’ good by the little folks like us’. The rest come and go, visiting and writing as often as they can.

She stuck to the shadows as she trotted through the main hall, the servants too used to her that they didn’t even bat an eyelid at a wolf in the grand hall. She suppressed a snort when she entered her room, as she heard a certain Tevinter Altus complaining from above that a kiss was ruining his ‘perfectly sculpted mustachio’. 

She slipped her pack off, and slid it under her cot before slipping quietly beneath the covers. The torches lining the walls cast a warm glow across the painted fresco's on the walls, and she sighed softly as she looked at them. Ma said that her father painted them, and she loved them so much as a da’len that she demanded she sleep in here. She bet her father could have helped her unravel that barrier, if the world had been different. If he knew she existed, or if he didn’t have more important ‘plans’ for this world. She sighed and cast the thoughts aside. They came to her often, and they never ended with anything but a longing she could never fulfil and conflicted emotions about his plans.

She took one last look at the familiar shapes on the walls, before waving a hand and extinguishing the torches, closed her eyes, and stepped into the welcoming arms of the fade.


	3. Then Skyhold Burned

“Wake up!...” Ghila grumbled, burying her head further down into the comforting warmth of her duvet, shutting out the growing sounds and the insistent, familiar voice.

“Miss Ghila, You must wake now!” A small, insistent hand began to shake her shoulder and she groaned, turning to see the fear stricken face of Lavalia, who had been her nursemaid since before she could remember.

“What’s going on, Lav?” Ghila shook her head concerned and blinked hard to clear the weariness from her eyes before looked around her. The sounds she had been unable to comprehend in the sleep were bombarding her in full force now, screams of terror and shouted commands trickling into her side room. She swung her legs from her bed, rising quickly and grabbing the set of daggers that were safely tucked away under her bed and slipped them into the inbuilt sheaths in her leggings.

“You mustn’t linger, my lady, you must find your uncle up…” The door to the main hall slammed open, almost splitting the plaster as it hit the wall and an arrow sank through Lavalia’s throat, red blooming from the wound as she clawed at it pitifully, eyes wide and throat gurgling for a moment before she dropped to the floor.

“LAV!” Ghila cried, eyes wide in horror as tears spilled down her face, and her heart wrenched painfully in her chest. She dropped to her knees, hands fluttering and shaking helplessly over the wound, pouring healing magic into her that she knew was useless but would dull her pain at least. She jerked her head up at a dark laugh, she had almost forgotten the immediate danger, as a burly armoured man let out a dark laugh and let another arrow fly.

She threw herself to the side, arrow nicking the flesh of her shoulder making her hiss through clenched teeth as the pain seared down her arm. She rolled, landing in a crouch and let a bolt of ice fly from her palm, freezing the man in place as she sprinted forward, sliding a dagger from its sheath at her hip and plunged it into the man’s side. He gasped, hands clutching the pulsing wound as Ghila yanked the blade free and turned to flee with one last mournful look to the body of her friend.

She yanked the door open, taking the stairs two at a time towards the library and burst the door open. Only a few intruders had made it this far, three lay dead and one brutish woman with greasy brown hair covered in scars stood over the body of an unfortunate servant, yanking her blade with a sickening crunch from the small elf’s limp body. The woman turned, revealing half a missing nose and a mouth full of yellowed teeth as she grinned and started towards her.

Ghila took a fearful step back and looked around, a hint of panic creeping into her thoughts as she noticed Dorian was nowhere to be seen. She looked towards the corpses, focusing on the biggest brute of the lot, a thick necked man with a cheap broadsword lying by his side, and she focused her magic on him, hoping to whatever gods she could think of that this worked.

Purple light flooded into her hands and through the air, the light pulsing and shifting as it weaved its way to the dead man’s chest. The body jerked, back spasming wildly as the magic took root, before it finally slumped to the floor again, slowly beginning to gurgle and moan as the it rose from the ground.

The woman growled, fear creeping into her glare as the body rose, and she raised her sword, turning her attention away from Ghila to face the new threat she had raised. She took the opportunity to run while the corpse she had risen charged, a jagged moan emitted from it’s mouth as it clashed with the woman.

She ran to the stairs, hearing yells and footsteps echoing behind her, and ran up hastily towards the rookery. Her mother had told her that Divine Victoria used to stay up here, before she took on the mantle of Divine. Her mother liked to take her up here for lessons sometimes, it was usually bustling with activity, but now was abandoned and silent save for the fluttering and squealing of disturbed birds.

She panted, throat beginning to burn as she turned looking about wildly for somewhere to go. Footsteps behind her made her run forward in panic, to the door on the far side of the room. She flung it open, but stopped, lurched forward as a throwing knife sank into her side from behind. She gasped, clutching at the blade sticky with her own blood and yanked it out quickly, letting a cry loose from her as the serrated blade tore at her flesh and pain flooded her. She couldn’t shift with a blade inside her, so she would just have to hope she didn’t bleed out too quickly, so she quickly flooded the wound with healing magic to slow the bleeding a little.

Ghila shifted and screamed, as her form rippled and stretched into it’s new feathered form, wound stretching and ripping to match the new form, feathers drenched in hot sticky blood. She launched herself into the air, ignoring the pain as best she could and threw herself across the wall, down into the valley below, in an unsteady flight.

The descent to the snow covered valley below was not a graceful one, freefalling most of the way. Ghila barely managing to keep herself from hurtling to her death on the cold ground below. Blood fell freely from her, the little blast had not been nearly enough to staunch the wound completely, and stained the snow below in a stark trail as the sounds of death and scent of fire claiming her home faded into the distance.

She hurtled toward the ground, wings flapping causing flashes of hot white agony, and she fell heavily into the flow, shifting once again into a form that would be faster on foot.

Her fur was not so pleasant in this cold, when it was drenched with her own blood. The shifting had opened the wound even further, but to travel on slow elven feet in this deep snow would be too slow… it would be the death of her.She pushed forward again, pain searing through her and ran.

Ghila didn’t know how long she went on for, all that she knew was the pain and the cold, until her pace slowed and her paws simply wouldn’t move any further. Blood pooled in the snow below her as she slumped into a fur-lined heap. She whined, attempting to rise only to fall heavily back down into the snow, darkness swimming in her vision as her head began to cloud.

She was going to die. Her mother, Bull, Dorian… they could all be dead already, just like Lav. She was going to die in the snow, be buried and never found again. She didn’t want to die like this, she wanted to see her mother one last time. Hear Dorian talk about how pretty her was one last time. He always did claim he was too pretty to die.

Her eyes slipped closed, breathing laboured as she whined pitifully. She could feel the thrum of magic around her, but it faded further as she slipped further into unconsciousness and the last sound she was able to hear was the sound of hastily crunching of snow in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a really bad habit of switching POV when I write, and I try to catch it when I proofread chapters but for this one I have been staring at it for that long I can't see it anymore, so if you see any annoying POV changes please forgive me and alert me in the comments so I can fix it! :D 
> 
> Still looking for a beta btw, if anyone is interested!


	4. Saved by Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so... I have decided that our Ghila deserves to have something good happen to her, what with her home being attacked, being nearly killed, not knowing if her family is alive or dead etc....  
> SOOOOOO, We are going to have a cute little romance blossom between her and a certain ancient broody elf with mythal's vallaslin!
> 
> Be warned - it's going to be adorable and it's gonna have lots of blushing embarrassed Abelas!

Ghila groaned, her head pounding as if something was trying to break out from the inside, and cracked open her eyes. A torch of blue-green light flickered gentle on a stand on the small crate serving as a table at her bedside, casting barely enough light for her to see her own hand in front of her face.

She shifted, and immediately regretted it. Her body had felt numb before, but now white hot pain lanced down her side. She hissed through clenched teeth and clutched at the heavily bandaged wound, panting through the pain into the darkness around her, until what must have been the tent’s entrance flapped open.

She hissed and scrunched her eyes open as the invading light made her eyes water and footsteps approached her. For a moment, she felt fear pump through her veins, her magic shifted restlessly behind her palms, before a cool palm touched her forehead and hushed her. This wasn’t like the gentle hush of her Mamae when she was ill as a child, it was more the hush of an impatient man with a startled animal.

The man tutted as she stirred, agitating the wound further and she let out a whimper. The hand on her forehead lifted and with a wave of his hand the light beside her flared brighter, flooding the room with a gentle blue light. The hand returned to her, prying her clutching hands gently from her side cause a pained gasp to slip from her, before gently removing the gauze from her side.

“I am not a skilled healer, but have done what I can.” His voice was deep and lilting, oddly pleasant, despite the fact his words were clipped and to the point.

He placed his palm to the ragged wound on her side, palm glowing faintly where it touched her skin. Despite appearances, Ghila could feel the wound was no longer life-threatening. The blood oozed slowly now, not like it had when she had been bleeding to death in the snow. Fenehdis, it was painful though. She could not hold back the pained gasp, which ended in a pitiful whimper before the magic set in and the pain dulled slightly, as the uncomfortable feeling of flesh shifting and slowly knitting together began.

“Ir Abelas…” He murmured, but her eyes had adjusted to the light just enough by now to see the man’s face past the dark hood and he did not show any sign of remorse for her pain, save a slight downturn to his lips. His face was handsome, Ghila admitted to herself. Sharp, a slight downturn to his nose and a hint of pale hair fell forward from the confines of his hood as he leaned down. The winding branches of Mythal’s vallaslin adorning his forehead elegantly, her mother had taught her of it, in a faint emerald green. Had she been saved by the dalish?

Her lips parted, dry and cracked. Her throat felt raw and scratchy, and as she tried to speak all that came out was a broken sound. He turned, looking at her face for the first time since he arrived and he frowned deeply. She found she didn’t like that look on him. He turned from her, reaching for a clay decoratively carved jug and a similar clay cup that went with it, which had been lying on the floor beside her next to a bowl of water tinted red with what she assumed must be her blood.

He poured the water into the cup and raised it to her mouth, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head to support her as she drank. Ghila drank eagerly, thirst hitting her full force as the first drops of water touched her parch lips, spilling quite a bit down onto the threadbare blanket below.

“Thank y--…” She croaked, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Do not. Rest.” He rose quickly and dulled the light to its original soft glow, and waved a hand above her face and murmured something she couldn’t make out because suddenly her eyes were closing, and the world was surrounded by darkness as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* ***

The next time Ghila woke, she felt better. Her body still ached but not nearly as much as it had, and a quick inspection of the much lighter bandage that wrapped her torso showed that she was healing well. She had no idea how long she had been kept in sleep by the elven man who had healed her, but she knew she needed to leave. She needed to go back and find her family.

She hesitant raised the blanket she had been tightly tuck under, and revealed her bandaged form. She was barer than she would have liked, it made her feel vulnerable. Her feet were bare, and she had been placed in a pair of tight brown leggings that clung to her form. Her upper body was barely covered, her small breasts bound in a simple breast band and her waist wrapped tightly in cloth bandages that wound around her form from the bottom of her breasts to the top of her hips. The cloth along her side had a faint pink colour from the wound underneath, but as she shifted she found only a dull ache rather than the sharp agony she had felt before. 

She swung her legs gingerly over the side of the bed, flexing her toes before bracing herself on the bedside table and rising on unsteady feet. The ground was cold but not overly so, which was surprising this close to skyhold. She paused, looking around her. Or was she anywhere near skyhold?

She limped over to the tent flap where the elf had entered before, licking her lips nervously as she peaked out.

They were in some form of camp, but it definitely wasn’t dalish. There were no aravels, no halla. All the men and women she could see scurrying about were elves, but most of them bore no vallaslin. Some were armoured in elven looking armour, ridiculously ornate, while others ran around in simple gear from all over Thedas. She saw a woman run past in urgency with some documents in her hands, her face stern, in Orlesian armour. Another man walked past leisurely, laughing to a friend in simple Ferelden chainmail. Then there were the servants, running around with linens or food, sticking close to the side-lines so as not to impede anyone’s progress through the camp. One such woman, a young girl even younger than Ghila, stood not a few steps away from her. She beaming a warm smile at Ghila were her head peaked from behind the flap, as if she had know her for years.

“Oh, you are awake! So soon! I had not expected you to rise for at least another few days yet, you must be very strong.” The woman approached, pushing past me into the tent. I smiled in return nervously, unsure what to say. She set down the tray of simple breads, cheese and fruit upon the side table and turned to her, hands fluttering in the air.

“Oh forgive me! You must be very confused right now, I am Elora. I have been assisting in your care for the last week.” She came forward, small hand gently grasping mine and she lead me forward and patted the bed for me to sit. A week? Her mother was going to be worried sick. If she was even still alive. She closed her eyes, pushing back the thought for now.

“You should eat, I have only been able to feed you simple things like soup until now so you must be starving! After, I will take you to were you may bathe.” Ghila nodded and sat, tearing into a piece of bread gratefully. She was right, Ghila was ravenous. The feeling had been there since she awoke, so she hadn’t noticed it as out of the ordinary until presented with the simple banquet.

Ghila groaned in pleasure as the rich buttery bread hit her tongue. The simple meal was exquisite, and she nodded her thanks to the girl who waited patiently for her to eat with her hands resting clasped in her lap. Once she had finished, she turned to the girl, Elora.

“Thank you, Elora. Please, do you... know anything?... about what happened, I mean” Her brow furrowed, making Ghila’s nervous. Did she want to know the answer? Elora shifted nervously, picking non-existent dirt from below her nails.

“I am sorry, I don’t know much, but I will tell you what I can. A group attacked your home, I believe it was group of mercenaries, though I know not who hired them or how they got in. When Abelas found you, you were near death. He ordered a group of our best men to recover the fortress… as far as I know, they succeeded.” Ghila’s eyes lit up, and she couldn’t help the hopeful grin that split her face.

“They recovered Skyhold? There were survivors?” Elora gave her a sorry smile.

“I am sorry, I really do not know. You had family there?” Ghila’s smile faltered and she cast her eyes down at the crumbs on her lap and brushed at them absentmindedly, finishing her meal before turning to her again.

“I… yes. I did.” Ghila did not know these people. While this young girl seemed nice, Ghila did not know who she worked for. She couldn’t let them know who she was, in case they would try to ransom her back. She knew perfectly well her mother would not have the coin for that, especially with Skyhold likely ransacked of everything of value.

“You should ask Abelas, he will wish to speak with you. After you bathe, of course. I have never seen him quite as involved in someone’s care before, you must have impressed him.” Ghila thought back to the hooded man, that must be who meant. Abelas… with the perpetual frown that seemed to have graced his features, she couldn’t help but think it was sad that the name suited him. How she had impressed him though, she had no idea. She did not think she had ever seen him before.

“Alright…” Elora beamed at her again and rose from the bed.

“Come, I will show you to the lake to bathe and we will redress your wound.” She scuttled off, head checking over her shoulder to see that she followed. Ghila rose quickly, limped after her as she was lead into the heart of the busy camp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, slight delay on updating! My cat went missing so I wasn't able to concentrate enough to write this week. However, she returned this morning! So i will try my best to get an update out, though I have a university exam worth 40% of my module next week so sorry if I am bad at updating in the next few weeks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, my cat went missing so I wasn't able to concentrate on writing (she has now returned safe and sound, which is why I rushed to get something released for you). Next week I have a DA tattoo booked and a university exam worth 40% of my module, so I might be late next week too! Apologies in advance if I am!

The feeling of grime, sweat and crusted blood had clung to her like a second skin since Ghila awoke, so she couldn’t help but feel so much better after bathing. The worry still crawled around in her gut, but physically she felt much better.

 Elora had given her some simple clothes, a long cream sweater that hung loosely to allow her wound to breath, and a pair of simple brown leather leggings. Her feet were still bare, but she hardly minded it. She walked around the forests with only foot wraps more often than not, after all, and many others in the camp seemed to do the same.

Ghila slowly made her way through the mess of people, the tight wrappings making her waist making her unable to rush towards her saviour as she wanted to, but at least it allowed her take in some of the sights in the camp. Simple cloth tents decorated the place, some basic Ferelden style while others were ornately draped with decorative swathes of brightly coloured cloth in the Orlesian style. The place was a confusing mish-mash of colours and scents, and while the camp didn’t seem to be too large there where people everywhere, swarming  around like bees as they went about their work.

Ghila hobbled past the few who seemed to have the time to stare at her, eyes downcast so as to not attract attention. She came to a large open area, with tables laden with maps and missives, crowded almost solely with heavily armoured men and women. They all talked busily among themselves, in serious hushed tones and angry shouts. She skirted around the area, looking for her target. Elora had pointed her in this direction, told her she couldn’t miss the generals section.

Ghila frowned as she scanned the crowd, and her eyes widened at a familiar deep voice snapped something in frustration at one of the larger tables. She hadn’t recognised him without the hood, but it was him. The same pointed features and strong jawline, the same elegant vallaslin wrapping in delicate winding tendril across his face. His head was bald at the sides with one tight, intricately bound long braid of ice white hair down the centre to fall to his back. She shifted from foot to foot as she studied him, eyes sliding across the pleasant shape of his jaw before icy eyes caught hers in a death stare. She jumped, and her face felt hot with embarrassment. He stared at her as he said something, then gestured impatiently for her to come forward. The other men at the table grumbled at the intrusion and glared at her as they were dismissed.

“I… didn’t mean to interrupt…” She wound a pale finger in a strand of her long red hair, and stared at his stern face. He frowned, his piercing gaze softening and he clasped his hands behind his back and looked away as he shifted on his feet.

“No matter. My name is Abelas. I… am pleased to see you are awake. I assume you have questions, speak.” His gaze settled back on her, face pleasantly lacking the normal frown. Ghila nodded eagerly.

“Yes! I do. I mean…” She made a frustrated noise and frowned, too many questions rolling around in her head to pick from. “Where there any survivors… at skyhold?” She finally stuttered, her eyes begging him for the answer she wanted. He looked at her solemnly and nodded.

“Yes. Our people brought any survivors back to the camps for treatment. You are the only one here, the rest are scattered throughout our camps, we did not have the resources to deal with casualties on that scale here.” He cast his eyes down to his feet. “However, there were many dead by the time our forces arrived. I know that many of those higher in the chain of command survived, however the majority of the servants were not so lucky. If you had family there, I am afraid I do not know the identities of the dead. There is however, a census being taken of the living as they wake. For that, I will need to know who you are.” Abelas tilted his head quizzically at her and small but noticeable smirk appeared on his lips. “Other than a far too inquisitive mage.” Ghila’s heart sank, she would not yet learn if her family had lived. She still had hope though. She tilted her head in return and frowned.

“You know I’m a mage?” He chuckled at that, and stepped a little closer and leaned into her ear conspiratorially.

“A man can feel when his wards are being… tampered with.” Hot breath ghosted across her ear and she shivered, her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Those were yours!? I thought they were ancient! I… you…” She stuttered and grinned. “You just **have** to teach me how you made them so complex! It took me an age to get even one part unlocked!” He leaned back, an expression of surprise fading quickly from his face as he stepped back.

“Yes… well… No one has been able to learn them from me before. Though, nobody has even been able to dismantle them before either. We shall see.” He stepped back, looking around him awkwardly, returning his face forcedly to neutral. Ghila paused, her grin fading as his mask slid back into place. She cleared her throat awkwardly, and rubbed the back of her hand.

“Well… um… my name is… Ghilani… Lothlorel.” Her smile melted away. It seemed only fitting that she use Lavalia’s name, she had been like a second mother to her. His brow furrowed as he caught her expression and raised an eyebrow as she blinked moisture from her eyes. She shook her head and he nodded solemnly, assuming it was not for him to know.

“You worked for the inquisition?” He prodded, changing the subject.

“Yes…” She thought for a paused, thinking for a moment. Lies were always easier to maintain when they were close to the truth. “My mother took me to the inquisition just before it was disbanded. I never knew my father.  The inquisition was the only place that would take us in, would give her work. We have been there ever since.”

He nodded and turned to the desk, scribbling on a piece of paper briefly.

“Alright. I will send your name to be added to the census. Should your mother or anyone close to you see your name, I will establish contact between you and we will arrange for you to be returned to your home with them. In the mean time, I am sure we can find a use for a talented mage such as yourself. You will not be forced to undertake any tasks you do not wish to do, I am well aware that the inquisition is against our cause.” He folded the paper neatly, and placed a wax stamp upon it to seal it.

“Your cause?” Ghila had forgot to even consider who they were, in all honesty. Abelas put her far too at ease. He looked around at her in surprise, brow furrowed.

“Ir abelas. I had assumed Elora would have told you. You in one of Fen’harels camps.” She froze, eyes widening a little and he frowned at that. “If that is a problem, we can arrange—“ She cut him of with rapid shake of her head.

“No… it’s ok…” If she didn’t stay here, finding her family would be that much harder. “I just… didn’t expect… that.” Creators, she hoped he wasn’t in this camp. He nodded and pointed towards a large open fire.

“Good. Should you find yourself hungry, you may obtain food over there. Or, you may return to your tent to rest. I will have Elora find you when you are needed.” She nodded and he turned from her.

“Oh and… Abelas?” He paused, head glancing over her shoulder.

“Thank you… for helping me.” He nodded. “And you should smile more.” He froze. She hadn’t meant to say it, it had just slipped out, and now a light blush was spreading across his checks as he attempted to keep his face stern.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she fled back the way she came, leaving the flustered elf behind.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter, just to get back into this and the swing of things after taking a break from it for exams. I am now working in my placement year, so I will try my best to get an update out at least once a week, probably a Friday from now on. I am also trying to get back into my other Fenris/Solas series, so please be patient with me if I am a little late updating sometimes! I don't get a lot of time to write now, so I will try my best to not disappoint. 
> 
> I didn't actually intend to introduce a regular character for the series in this short chapter, but he just sort of appeared! Ghila seems to have made herself a bad influence bestie :P

Dinner, as it happens, was actually much more pleasant that she had expected. The forward camps of the inquisition had declined considerably over the years, but her mother still had a few small bands of troops scattered over Thedas, and the food they served there could barely even be considered food. This however, was nothing like the grey gruel substance served there. It was a hearty broth packed with wild roots, vegetables and sizable chunks of rabbit. The spices were divine, heat spreading through her aching limbs. A low chuckle caught her attention.

“Enjoying that, doll?” An elf at the other end of the log she was perched upon, relatively young, but his voice was almost as rough and scarred as his face. A dark red eyepatch covered one eye and dirty brown hair poked out at odd angles from a badly tied band at the nape of his neck. A sizeable chunk was missing from his upper lip, twisting his smile. She blushed, hastily wiping her lips with her finger as she realised she had been eating with all the grace and poise of a starving nuggalope. She made to place the wooden bowl down onto the trodden grass at her feet, when he lifted his hands in mock surrender, leaning back slightly.

“Don’t stop on my account! The way I see it, you could do with some meat on your bones, little flat ear.” He laughed, yellowed teeth glinting in the firelight. Ghila scowled, and shook her head.

“Don’t call me that. My name is Ghila.” He cocked his head at her and shrugged.

“Well, you aren’t dalish that’s for sure, so that makes you a flat ear here. Don’t worry though, aint nothing wrong with being a flat ear. Badge of pride it is to me, darlin.’” He saluted sloppily and smirked, lifting a dirty dark glass bottle to his lips. Another man sighed at his and shook his head as he leaned towards her, struggling to keep himself upright and offered her a dirty palm.

“The name’s Birch. Like the tree.” Ghila hesitated, before taking the offered hand gently and shaking it.

“It’s… nice to meet you, Birch. Like the tree.” He laughed, almost falling back off the log he was sitting at, before thrusting a dark bottle in her direction. She frowned at it.

“Leave the kid alone, _Belch_!” A grey-haired elf from across the fire threw a half-eaten piece of bread at him. Birch flinched back, gasping dramatically as the bread hit him softly on the chin.

“Hey, I’m just being friendly, and It’s Birch! Like…” A collective grown sounded around the fire, and Ghila laughed.

“Like the tree, we know!” Birch huffed and turned to her again, bottle outstretched.

“I shouldn’t.” She smiled politely and shook her head as Birch pouted, his damaged lip twisting the expression into a strange grimace.

“Come on, Birdie, have some fun. What else you gonna do tonight?” She paused, what else was she going to do tonight?

“Alright, but just one or two… I’m not used to drinking…” She clasped the cold bottle and lifted it to her lips.

Famous last words.


End file.
